


The Red In Your Blood

by MamaSpider



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Bite, Don't worry, I love you little brother I swear, Merry Christmas, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Playride, Someone dies, THEY SUFFER, except meeeeeeeee, no one asked for this, one-sided pinkberry, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaSpider/pseuds/MamaSpider
Summary: The Squip squad decide to have a spooky movie party in an abandoned house. The house has, awesomely enough, a tower!But there's an evil lurking within, and a selfless act may cost them all their lives.(This is a christmas fic and thus I wanna only update it then. Cuz I get bored on christmas. jeW JO K E-)





	1. In the tallest tower, a darkness awaits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beanjamoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanjamoose/gifts).



Brooke looked up at the building, frowning. A large, old house. Not quite in shambles, but definitely abandoned. it was Victorian, tall and brick. Siding covered the outside, peeling off and splintering from years of rain, wind and snow with zero upkeep. It looked sick, pale yellow and orange in spots, speckled along the walls like mold or pus. The home had three floors, the third floor being only a single room. A tower. The tower had shutters and vines all over it. Scraggly ivy seemed to sprout from the coned roof, spilling over and scratching at all six walls. The structure itself was off to the side, up and away from the rest of the building like a fungus. Lights could be seen from inside the tower, through some broken shutters. Brooke didn't like the look of it.

"Do we have to go up there?" She asked, pouting.

She didn't look away from the foreboding tower, arms crossed with hands tucked under her armpits. Chloe rolled her eyes and gave Brooke a hard slap on the back, prepared to call it 'playful'.

"Come on, Jake's already up there. We said we'd be here and mama needs a goddamn drink," She announced, hoping her voice would travel up to the tower.

Before Brooke could whine and bail, the side door to the house opened. It was loud, sounding like someone was snapping a ruler in half. Christine poked her head out, smiling at her friends.

"The wheel hath come full circle! I am here," She said, sing-song tone to her voice.

Brooke giggled and Chloe fought hard to bite back her groan.

"Chris, what does that mean?" Chloe asked, a frown on her face and a hand on her hip.

Christine didn't take it to heart, happily humming and tilting her head. Brooke ran to her savior, catching Christine in a hug. The girls giggled and let go, Christine starting to lead Brooke and Chloe through the house and to the tower.

"Everyone else is here, we still have plenty of snacks," She explained, climbing over a low table to get to the stairs.

Chloe avoided looking around the dark house, pinching her lips together hard. Fear and dread bubbled up in her gut, and she felt...off. Like someone was watching her. Leering at her from the shadows. It took all she had to walk slowly, behind the now babbling girls guiding her.

Within a few minutes, the trio made it to the tower. Chloe only got her hair caught once on a stray nail and Brooke managed to go without snagging her red sweater on anything at all. Christine swung the door to the tower open, announcing herself with her entrance alone. The cross on the back of the door creaked and wobbled, close to falling off.

Jake flinched from the entrance and looked up, smiling. His red Letterman jacket was being used by him as a sort of blanket, the jock himself using the pyramid of sleeping bags as a mattress, hanging his head upside down. His hair brushed the rotting floorboards.

Rich was standing beside his best friend, fiddling with the hem of his red and orange Halloween T-shirt. He leaned against the wall and nodded at the girls in acknowledgement. The red in his hair was fading into a bright orange.

Jenna was pulling the pink string out of her red and pink hoodie, not really showing that she noticed Christine. Her hair was braided with green extensions that seemed to glow in the light of the lamps. She was picking at the floor, bored. From her cell phone, music played. Some random Pandora playlist.

Michael and Jeremy were laying on top of each other in one of the corners, both sitting up and smiling at Christine. Michael just waved, but Jeremy shifted to face the trio.

"Hi Christine! Brooke," He greeted, trying not to look at Chloe too much. Chloe didn't notice.

"What's up, guys?" Brooke asked, moving to Jenna's side. She smiled and sat right beside her, earning a small laugh from the gossip queen. Brooke leaned over and took Jenna's phone, turning on pop songs. She needed to get the jitters out. Jenna wrapping an arm around her shoulders helped.

"Nothing much," Jake admitted, going back to counting the fibers of the floor.

"Waiting for you," Rich added, trying not to frown as Chloe came over to sit beside Jake.

"How fun. What exactly is the plan? I don't see any booze," Chloe complained, snark in her voice.

Michael rolled his eyes. He took a short breath and tried not to smack his teeth.

"Watching horror movies? Didn't you read the text?" He asked.

Jeremy lightly whapped Michael's arm, as if to say 'don't start anything'. Chloe rolled her eyes hard and laid down against the pile of sleeping bags. Her cheek brushed against Jake's and the jock very quickly rolled off his makeshift nest of warm. He landed on his stomach, forcing all the air out of his lungs in a pained _whoosh_.

Rich didn't miss a beat in laughing, leaning a bit forward. Jake pushed himself up, sucking in air. Jenna and Brooke giggled along, Michael smiling. Jake coughed and started to laugh along, feeling Christine rub his back. Chloe huffed and pressed her head into the sleeping bags.

_"Someone's a bit tense,"_

The whisper swirled in everyone's ears. Jeremy looked around, unsure of where the voice was coming from. Michael stared at the door, able to see everyone looking around in mild confusion. Jake's gaze also met the door. He could see some kind of mass, just behind the lip of the door frame. It didn't have a shape, it was just there. Just barely being able to be seen. it chilled him to the bone. Christine looked where Jake was looking, still smiling. She didn't see anything.

"Michael? Did you say something?" Jeremy asked, finally opening the laptop. The hotspot was already set up, Netflix at the ready. Hulu as backup.

Michael shook his head. The mass Jake saw so clearly was faded and not really there for Michael. Jeremy made a small noise of acknowledgement and laid down on the floor. Brooke leaned in close to Jenna's ear.

"Did you hear it too?"

Jenna shook her head, lying.

_"You all seem...worried,"_

Rich stood up straight, cracking a joint in his back. Everyone started looking around. It was louder that time.

"Ok. Stop," Christine insisted, patting Jake's back and pouting.

Jake looked up at Christine and shook his head.

"No, I'm not doing anything," He replied, shuffling to stand.

The tower began to creak and moan, the shutters rattling in the sudden wind. Everyone's stomachs began to churn. Someone was in the house with them. Some squatter, meth addict, rapist, murderer-

Brooke screamed as the door slammed shut.

Everyone stood up and moved to huddle in the farthest corner from the door. Jake, of course, put himself up front, ready to protect everyone. Chloe clung to his arm and he fought off the urge to flinch.

The air became thicker, the lanterns began to flicker and dim. Rich sucked in a breath, watching as smog began to seep in from under the door. Everyone stared in horror as the smog started to swirl around and pillar. It brought a sudden stench, choking the teens. Chloe gagged and Jenna's eyes started to sting, watering. The scent was of a bog, festering inside a decaying pussing wound. An unwanted perfume of rot, wafting heavily as it assaulted the teens' senses.

No one was able to say anything, trapped in a trembling mess. Jeremy squeaked lightly as he felt Christine start to worm her way out of the center of the forced fear cuddle puddle. She squeezed herself out, standing beside Jake.

"Ch...Christine? What are you doing?" Jake asked, trying not to gag. He held his jacket in one hand, bringing it up to shield his nostrils from the horrid stench that only seemed to grow.

Christine didn't answer, sparing her friend only a glance. She took in a deep breath through her nose, a feat in itself. She placed her hands on her lower back and pushed. She arched back to counter it, cracking her spine. She exhaled, closing her eyes and untensing her neck. Her eyes popped open and she started towards the black smog. She stuck her hand out and tried to dispel the mass, brushing it off as a trick of the light. It was smoke. Bad smelling smoke. Something was burning, and she had to show the others so they could calm down and call for help.

Her hand got stuck.

Christine shrieked as a hand formed around her wrist, holding her tight. She immediately leaned back, using all her weight to fall back and out of the hand's grasp. She didn't budge.

"Christine!" Jeremy cried, shoving Michael aside to run for her.

Jake and Rich followed, Jenna and the others making up the rear end of the train. Jeremy wrapped his arms around Christine's waist and started to pull. Jake wrapped his arms around her chest, Rich her arm, Brooke and Chloe grabbed Jake, Jenna held Rich's arm and Michael held Jeremy around the waist. All of them pulled, grunting and crying out in panic. Christine's hand was held perfectly still.

The smog belched forth a stronger scent, Rich just about vomiting. A wet cloth of formaldehyde, dipped in curtled milk and draped along a pile of dried sewage all tucked away in a newly split open cow's belly. It was so strong everyone had to hold their breath and close their eyes. Everyone let out a collective shout as Christine was let go.

Michael and Jenna caught everyone, stopping them from falling. Everyone stumbled back to the very center of the room. The black mass of stench was no longer a pillar of black smog. Now it was a person, standing before them. It was tall, brooding. Scruff and a goatee adorned its chin, jet black hair and unnatural ice blue eyes. Its skin looked like mushrooms. It looked as though you could poke it, gouging out a chunk of cheek.

"Hello, children," It hummed, the whisper traveling all around the group. It sounded as though it was the busted shutters that spoke.

"Are we having a party? Hm?" His eyes scanned each and every teen's face, smiling at the terror.

Fangs peeked out from behind cracked lips. the only sound in the room for a solid minute was the panicked heartbeats of the high schoolers. It was taking everything Jeremy had in him to keep from passing out.

"Well, I suppose you've all had dinner. Which one of you will be mine?"

Christine clung to Jake, who was too busy trembling to walk forward and act as a shield. Everyone slowly moved their arms to either hug themselves or hold onto the people around them.

"Ah, I have an idea."

The vampire's cloak stretched and opened, sending a burst of unwanted rotten air towards the trembling teens. It blocked off the door, the only hope for their exit. They were alone, with a vampire. They weren't going to make it out alive.

"You choose."

Jake exhaled, a pathetic whimper. He pulled Christine to his chest, feeling Brooke bury her face in his ribs. He swallowed hard, feeling bile rise up to his throat and burn his chest. He shuffled forward, making sure Christine and everyone else was father away from the vampire than him. He wanted to cry.

"Choose. Choose which one of you will stay with me. I'll let the rest of you go," It promised, making sure to smile wide.

The movies were forgotten. Every petty argument this week was null and void. Every love confession, dirty joke, ghost story that was supposed to bubble up and spice up the night was tossed out the window, through the shutters. This was it. They were dead.

One of them, anyway.

Which one of them was going to die?


	2. Wear red, so your friends can't see you bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who shall be eaten?
> 
> Will anyone be eaten?
> 
> Someone will die.

The fangs of the vampire were yellow and moldy, cracked like the side of an old castle wall. The mold fit near perfect in the cracks. It was as if its fangs were a stone building, the mold a horde of unkempt ivy.

"If you won't choose, perhaps I will."

There was a collective shock wave that wracked the friend group. The vampire was going to choose one of them. One of them was going to die.

"Of course, it's only a suggestion. Now which one," it breathed, the air around the squad growing stagnant. 

The vampire smiled at the group, its eyes slicing deep into their flesh. Spines froze, legs shook, and tears were shed. The milky blue pupils of the creature were like curdled milk, and perhaps the source of the choking smell of death? It was utterly silent in the large tower.

The vampire stood tall, cloak flaring open. The stench that washed over the teens was nearly enough to make them faint. Brooke clung to Christine, the closest to barfing. Everyone breathed through their mouths, still coughing and choking. The cloak of the vampire melted and mended into the wall, all of the brick turning into whatever rot made up the fabric. It screamed.

The silence was deafening. No one wanted to bathe in the stench. No one wanted to speak. No one wanted to breathe. Everyone wanted to escape the embrace of moldy death. All they could do was wait for the vampire to choose which one of them it would eat.

"All of you have wanted miss Chloe Valentine out of at least one group activity, have you not?"

Brooke squeaked and everyone turned to face Chloe. She kept her face stone, poised. Her fingers clenched and she began to slightly tremble. Blinking, she glared at the vampire in all his disgustingly dark glory. His glowing eyes made her want to puke. Would they choose her? Surely not.

"Or perhaps you'll choose Richard Goranski. After all, all the little jabs and bullying, how he acts under stress. None of you enjoy it. What would you miss about him?"

Rich held his ground as doubt bubbled up his spine. What if they all chose him? Why oh why did he push people away like this? He had Jake at least. Jake wouldn't let him die. Feeling Jake tap his wrist, their little secret sign of support, helped relax him.

"Maybe Brooke Lohst. She's kept so many secrets from you, wouldn't you like some revenge?"

Brooke flinched at the sound of her name. They couldn't pick her. Could they? All her friends would be too scared to think straight...

"Or Jenna Rolan? The young and spunky know-it-all. The gossip, loved by none. Who'd miss her?"

Jenna trembled and looked up at Jake, who suddenly turned away. She knew she wasn't everyone's good friend, that she wasn't really "in" with people. But surely she was important to them? Not just some gossip dumpster?

"What about little Jacob Dillinger? The adorably dense jock. But there's something else under the skin, isn't there? A betrayal of friendship, perhaps?"

Rich and Christine moved at the speed of light, grabbing his arms. Jake trembled and looked around, seeking escape. His palms began to sweat and there was suddenly something worse than death in his life.

"Christine Canigula--none of you would outwardly consider her. But be honest. An annoying, overly bubbling blabbermouth that loses her mind over Shakespeare. All of you groan when you find out she's coming to the mall, don't you?"

The lack of reaction was painful. Christine felt her eyes burn with tears as Brooke's grip loosened. Jeremy wanted to rebuttal, but swallowed hard as the vampire began to move.

The vampire began to inch closer, his gaze fixed on Jeremy. The bright blue terror in his eyes drew it in, enticing. As he opened his mouth of knives to speak yet another suggestion, Jeremy's legs grew weak. No one here had a true connection with him, no one but Michael. But a unanimous vote could ensure his demise. He was going to die.

"Poor, dorky, Jeremy-"

"I volunteer!"

Michael's scream echoed around the large empty tower and sent shock waves through the chests of all present. The large wisp-like vampire reeled back slowly. Its fangs sucked back into its gums and his thin lips pressed together. The large cloak no longer covered the walls, peeling off and wrapping tightly around the undead creature's body.

Everyone looked on through tears at Michael, their new hero. He stood with his arms outstretched a good few feet in front of his friends, protecting the trembling masses of fear like a mother bear. Christine felt pride jab her in the chest, she knew he was truly brave after all. There was an overall mood of fear and dread. Michael just volunteered for death. Jeremy felt sick as relief washed over him. He was a horrible person, who gets relieved when their best friend sacrifices himself for you? 

The vampire seemed to float around the room, near the ceiling of the tower. His face was calm, blue eyes sparking against his mushroom colored skin.

"...So, you wish to be my victim?" The stench of the vampire wafted through the air as it spoke.

"I-I'm not letting you touch my friends." Michael retorted, following the creature like a revolving shield. "And if that means I'm the one wh-who...So be it." His voice trembled, pure fear dripping out. He didn't back down.

"Ara ara, I simply asked for you all to decide on whom I get." The vampire didn't sound confused, more amused. Almost...happy.

Michael gulped, a selfish desire to run rushing up his spine. He glanced at the door and then started to beat the desire down. No one deserved to die like this. But only one had to.

And he wasn't about to let someone else die for him.

"Michael, no!" Jeremy cried, no longer frozen in fear. "You can't die! Not like this!"

"He won't." The vampire cut through the children with a single stare.

He floated back down in front of the group, blocking the exit once more. he seemed to grow larger, fangs still hidden.

"You wish to be a hero, dear Michael?" It asked, voice a low hum.

"I'm not letting you hurt my friends. If you need to feed so bad, come and get me. Just let them leave." Michael shook, pressing his arms to his sides and tilting his head to expose his neck.

Jeremy was about to run, to save Michael, hold him, protect him. But he froze as the vampire began to smile. Its fangs were no longer moldy and cracked. They were pure white. Too white. They didn't look real. Jeremy flinched as he watched two of them elongate before his very eyes. Michael paled.

"I-If--If you go after them after you have me, there's gonna be hell to pay," Michael promised.

"Ahhh, my dear sweet child." The vampire's words dribbled from his mouth like drool.

"In the reality of vampires, I am allowed one victim a night. However, if a victim were to volunteer..."

The vampire's cloak once again loosened. It stretched and sprawled out on the cracking walls like a shadow. There was no weight, yet the very movement seemed to suck the air out of everyone's lungs.

"...Well, that's where vampires come from."

Michael's eyes barely had time to widen as the vampire lunged forward. A strong gust of air seemed to suck him closer to the fangs as they tore through his flesh. Michael couldn't pull away, the cloak constricting around him like a cobra.

"NO" Jeremy cried out, running for his best friend. 

Jeremy was smacked out of the way by an unseen force, sending him into the brick. Jeremy yelped and whimpered, sliding down the wall. Christine's screams filled the room as the event occurred. The room seemed to shake as the rest of the group huddled together. Or was it just their collective tremors of terror? Everyone averted their eyes, not wanting to witness the event that saved their lives.

Michael tried to scream but could only gargle, feeling a thick syrup-like substance get injected into his vocal chords. The blackness of the cloak began to invade his lungs, pushing out every last breath of air. Michael's chest became so cold it burned. Whatever the vampire was forcing into him was pumping through the chambers of his heart, and he could feel every last blood cell die.

The cloak suddenly wrapped around Michael, swaddling him. It was then he realized what the cloak was. He could feel it. It wasn't some supernatural cloth. It was a part of the vampire, part of its body. Made of of the screaming souls of every victim it ever had. The vampire was so old. Impossibly old.

Michael was soon unswaddled, the vampire smiling at its project. He fell to the ground, slamming into it like a pile of bricks. The teenager sputtered and coughed, a black liquid oozing from his neck wound. He sucked in a deep breath and forced his throat open to cry out. The vampire sliced open its tongue with a claw, the maroon and orange speckled liquid pooling in its mouth. It dove down and flipped Michael onto his back. It forced their mouths together to dump the blood into Michael's throat, squelching his scream. He was unable to do anything but swallow the blood that poured into his mouth. Michael gulped and coughed, hacking as the vampire pulled away. His hands slowly moved to his face, fingers like ice. The black ooze began to seep out from his mouth.

The vampire stood tall and wiped his fangs on his cloak, leaving them shiny and new again. The vampire's laugh was like broken glass. Everyone finally felt brave enough to look. Screams filled the room and Brooke collapsed. Michael assumed the fetal position as pain wracked his body, shivering and choking out sobs and ooze. He felt violated, used, and was in so much pain.

Jeremy sprinted and dove for his best friend, throwing all caution to the wind. Michael, his best friend, his best fucking friend was dying. And it burned. He grabbed the back of Michael's head and pulled him into his lap, trembling. The ooze that bubbled out of his friend made his skin tingle. He wanted to throw up.

"Michael? God, fuck- Michael!" He started to cry, wiping the sickly warm fluid off Michael's chin.

Michael's glasses fell off, not that he could see much anymore anyway. He shakily raised an arm, gripping the collar of Jeremy's shirt. Christine made a sudden appearance behind Jeremy, kneeling and trying to figure out exactly what form of CPR could possibly save him.

Chloe hid her face in Jenna's chest, shaking like a leaf. Jake wobbled and fell to his knees, powerless. He wanted to be the one to protect all his friends. Make sure they were safe. Now Michael was...dead? Dying? What did the vampire mean?

Jeremy started to choke, sobbing hard. He shook his head over and over, a hand over Michael's. This couldn't be happening. This _couldn't be happening_.

"No, no. No no nonononono, Michael please," He begged.

The vampire began to laugh, like claws on a chalkboard. It shook its head and backed up, out of the way. It lifted a hand and the door swung open. The crucifix on the door spun, flipping in a circle and just about flying off. It smiled and looked over each of the teens.

"You're free to go. Live your lives, forget tonight ever happened," It cooed, almost proud.

Brooke sucked in a breath and screamed, knees wobbly as she shook her head. Everyone but Jeremy looked at her. She inhaled and screamed again. And again. She sucked in a final breath, wiping her tears away with a sleeve.

"What did you DO to him?!"

The vampire sighed happily, looking down at Michael. It tapped its claws against its chest, humming.

"I filled him with my rot."

Everyone once again fell silent. The only noises that could be heard were quiet sniffles and Michael's gagging. Soon, even he began to quiet down, causing Jeremy to panic even more. Michael slowly lost the ability to breathe, unable to suck in any more air. He hissed and whimpered, curling in tight on himself. He started to smell like rot, getting colder by the second.

"Michael..."

"You should all leave," The vampire hummed. "He'll be dead soon."

Jeremy felt like he got shot, bending down and hugging Michael as tight as he could.

"You have 30 seconds before then. He'll reawaken. And, while I'm only allowed one victim a night, baby vampires...they may feast."

The vampire faded away, becoming a cloud of smog before vanishing all together. Everyone looked at each other, coming to an understanding. Everyone slowly huddled around Michael, making some form of contact. They held his hands, rubbed his head, made sure he knew someone was there.

"It's ok Michael, we're right here."

"Don't cry, shhh, don't cry."

"You're not alone."

"Right here. Look at us."

Michael whimpered as he felt his body forcefully relax, vision going dark. He closed his eyes and let himself go, focusing on his friends' voices. He went slowly. The ooze stopped as he left.

Jeremy choked and held Michael close, Christine right beside him. Everyone else stared at his body. They all knew what they had to do.

But no one wanted to be the first one to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's more.
> 
> Merry Christmas :3


	3. Baby Vampires Are Adorable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is reborn. 
> 
> The squad discuss how to deal with him.

"We've existed for so long. Longer than I can fathom. I'm not the first, and you won't be the last. I remember my mother. Killed. But she got sloppy. I never will. I'll teach you to be clever as well. As clever as I was, years ago.

"Mortals, mortals never change. They like to think they do, that they adapt. But in reality, they just get stupider. Stumbling around, thinking they're safe behind a glass panel. They make myths, fake easy-to-follow rules that turn their hunters into meek sheep. They think they can strike down a god by refusing to unlock the door at a certain time. By not inviting us in. Fools.

"You know, they said we only come out at night. That we melt in the sun. Creatures of darkness, they call us. And we are. But not how they think. They think the darkness hides us. Protects us. They believe the darkness is our cradle, our crib. But we are the darkness. We stretch it, manipulate it, use it to take what we want. We are the gods of the blackest parts of mortal souls! So,"

The vampire turned, looking down at his brand new baby vampire.

"Use it. Feel it coursing through your aura. Your new soul. Free yourself, my child."

Michael nearly hissed, glaring up at the vampire. His eyes were pure red pools, pupils dots of orange. He struggled to get out of his restraints, stuffed into Jenna's sleeping bag and wrists bound with the laptop wire. He got Jake's jacket off his face easily enough, rolling around a bit.

The vampire got a bit closer, sitting down in front of Michael. He smiled softly, confident that Michael would figure out how to get out. Michael continued to struggle, hissing and mumbling and groaning in frustration. He suddenly stopped, flopping down limply. He pressed his face into the rotting floorboards and fussed. He whined and whined, looking up at the vampire from where he was, unmoving.

The vampire just shook his head, smiling. Michael wailed like a husky dog and arched his back.

"Your soul, child. Feel your soul die."

Michael blinked, staring into his new parent's eyes. He took in a deep breath, forcing his lungs to open like they did when he was alive. He remembered the pain of death, the seething terror of starting to rot. He held it in his chest, remembering his life when he was alive, who he was, what he liked, what he stood for. He held it tight, finding it, reaching it. He hissed and felt himself grow cold as he started to crush it, forcing his now dead soul out of his very being.

The vampire watched with pride as the laptop charger snapped, freeing Michael. He got his hands up front, ripping the zipper of his makeshift prison apart. He growled like a hell hound and stood, rolling his shoulders back. From between his shoulder blades, a black bubble began to form. It trembled and shifted, popping and clicking as Michael tore off his blood red sweater. As the soiled fabric hit the floor, the bubble burst. Michael's scream tore through the tower, shaking the foundation of the building.

His soul, now half dead and trapped, twisted and melted into a scarf. The scarf wrapped itself around Michael's neck, a perfect fit. Michael put a hand on the fabric, smiling. It was new, a single victim. Soon enough, it would melt and morph into a beautiful cloak, one that could stretch around a room, trapping prey and stopping time itself.

Michael frowned as heat filled his stomach. He was hungry. Very, very hungry. He looked up at the taller vampire, not needing to say anything. It floated forward and gave Michael's cheek a pat.

"You'll feed. They're still here. Right outside," It hummed, leading Michael to one of the windows.

Where Michael saw shutters when he was alive, now sat doorways. Places to perch without getting touched by the ivy. Michael crawled into a doorway and perched. He looked outside, down into the yard.

Sure enough, everyone was still there. Jeremy was on the ground, sobbing so hard he was making himself sick. Everyone was talking, in a half circle facing the tower. Michael watched them, silent. Rich flinched his hand away from Christine, not letting her take the pocketknife.

"We h-have to!" He argued, holding the blade tight. "He'd want us to! He wouldn't want to come back as a monster!" He struggled to talk without his lisp.

"We tied him up, he'll be up there, we just...need to call the police!" Jake shot back, not going for the knife.

"Don't you know anything about vampires? He can turn into a cloud of smoke, just like the one that killed him!" Christine shrieked, tears dribbling off her chin.

"Stop calling him that!" Brooke squeaked, covering her ears and starting to rock in place.

"Look, we're not killing Michael, Michael's already dead. We need to go _home_ ," Jenna insisted, rubbing Jake's arm.

"Whatever's up there. We need to kill it. Now." Rich straightened his back, trembling. His voice was strong and angry, covering up his utter failure and terror. He wanted to curl up and die. It should've been him. Michael didn't deserve this.

A slap rang through the once peaceful neighborhood, silencing everyone. Rich fell backwards, knife flying somewhere out of sight. Everyone silently stared at Chloe as she rubbed the sting out of her hand. She grit her teeth, seething with rage.

"He gave up his fucking LIFE for you! How DARE you even SUGGEST us going back in there, let alone right into the arms of death!"

She huffed and puffed, backing up and raising her arms up in a gesture of confusion.

"What did Michael say? For us to be let go, and for the monster not to follow us. He wanted us to LIVE. To fucking run!" She pointed at Rich, shaking her head. "I'm not about to spit on his last fucking wish. After everything that's happened."

Chloe started to walk towards the building, grabbing hold of some of the peeling siding. The orange rot squished between her fingers. She didn't give a fuck.

"We put that fucker through so much _bullshit_."

Jenna clenched her teeth and cringed hard as the sound of old rotting wood echoed down the street. Chloe kept pulling, not stopping when she felt a nail chip and break. It was just a 50 dollar manicure. It didn't fucking matter.

"And he gave up his god damn life for us. He hated me, and the feeling was mutual. But he didn't offer me up like some coward. He's our mother-fucking-hero."

The siding chunk came off with a **Snap**. Chloe held it up, watching the orange and maroon rot dribble down her arm. A bit of her blood dribbled down with it. She cried out, tossing the chunk hard at the tower. She missed the mark by a long shot.

Huffing and sucking in air, Chloe felt herself calming down. Venting let her blow off steam. It was fucked up, but she felt better. She decided to look up at the night sky. Her gaze locked onto the shutters Michael was leaning out of. All she saw was a mass of black smog.

Chloe smacked her teeth, sending a mental 'fuck you'. She turned on her heel and walked over to Jeremy. She kneeled down and forced one of Jeremy's arms around her neck and started to stand. A very frazzled and out of it Jeremy didn't protest, standing with her.

"Now let's fucking go. Before I burn this god forsaken casket to the ground."

Chloe put Jeremy in Michael's PT Cruiser, walking alone to her own car. Brooke followed Christine, climbing into Jake's pickup truck. Rich joined Jeremy in the Cruiser, holding him in a tight embrace. Jenna took off her sweater and draped it over Jake's shoulders. Jake shook for a bit before tying the jacket around his neck and nodding. He pushed his keys into Jenna's hand and pulled out Michael's keys. He tried not to look at them, rethinking ever holding onto anyone's keys ever again.

Michael watched as everyone silently left the property, slow and crying. He hummed as he gazed upon his friends. How he wanted to tear into their flesh. He needed to feed. Now.

"Ara ara, it seems it's time for your first lesson, my child."

Michael slipped back into the tower, tilting his head. The vampire held out Michael's sweater and glasses, smiling.

"Those mortals out there. They still see you as the friend they lost. It's time you learn how to use that to your advantage," The vampire's smile twisted, unnaturally large. A true ear-to-ear smile.

Michael smirked right back. His scarf melted into his back, pressing against his spine like bat wings. He slipped his sweater on to hide it, sliding his glasses onto his nose. He nodded, zipping up the signature red hoodie. A memory of Michael Mell, who leaves behind a best friend, his poor mothers, and his kitten.

The vampire gave Michael's head a pat. The cross on the door spun around thrice, trembling and stopping upside down. The vampire started floating down the stairs, out of the tower and into the rest of its house. Michael listened intently to his parent and mentor, hunger only aiding in his ability to take in information. The sound of engines could be heard outside. There was no rush. It was time for a feast.

\----------------------------------

Chloe shut her back door, locking it. She didn't slide the door stopper in quite yet, the large glass panes allowing her to see her moonlit garden and porch. She pressed herself against the door and let out a heavy breath. Tears bubbled up and sat in her eyes. She sniffled and stared at a random spot on her wall.

"Michael. Fucking. Mell," She whispered.

She felt her legs grow weak from stress. Everything was hitting her at once. She wished her commotion would wake her dad up, be enough to drag him out of bed and start yelling at her. The thought of him actually doing it made her faintly smile. He'd never yell at her. He'd raise his voice, tell her how worried and stressed her actions made him. Then he'd apologize, explain how little he slept, mention how much she looked like her mother, and make each of them a coffee. They's sift through old photos and make jokes, pretending mom was there to tell them to hush up and let her flip the pancakes in peace. Then they'd fall asleep watching a movie in the master bedroom. Something Christmas-y, no matter the season.

Chloe let the thought relax her, let her wash away the trauma that she went through not even an hour ago. Then she spotted the note on the fridge. She sighed and walked over, heels clicking against the tile. She picked up the note and read it, her small smile fading away.

_My little Lion,_  
_I tried to find you but you must have gone out with friends. I know your old man isn't too savvy, but an instant message would've been nice. Can't stay mad at you, lion <3 Anyway, your old man's gone out. I'll write another note when I get home. Sally from accounting says hi, if we win big I'll get you that pillowpet. You know the one. Big kisses!_  
_-Love, your old old old old man_

Chloe smiled at her dad's horrible handwriting. A yawn crept up on her and she decided to shower and sleep. She was certain she'd have nightmares, but anything was better than festering in her own mind until exhaustion took her out. Besides, the cops had been called and they'd likely be by in the morning. She'd need a clear head.

Chloe jolted as a loud THUNK came from the side of the house. She clutched the note to her chest and started looking around. She opened drawers and dug for a flashlight. She searched and searched, hand shaking. Another THUNK rang in her ears, closer to the backdoor. She ditched the drawers and went for the knives. She shuffled and nabbed a small steak knife, angrily tossing it to the ground. She yanked out a cleaver and felt better, clutching it tight.

A final BANG made Chloe whimper. A fist on glass. She knew who's fist it was. It had to be him. Chloe stared at her microwave, squinting in a glare. She could see Michael in the reflection, lit by the moon with glowing eyes and gleaming little fangs. Michael looked pathetic, tears dribbling down his cheeks. He was trembling, glasses askew. His bottom lip quivered as he spoke.

"Chloe?" His voice was muffled by the thick glass, but Chloe could hear the pain in his voice. She could tell it was fake. She had so many notes on his performance.

"Chloe, please...please let me in. I'm...It hurts," He begged.

Chloe took a deep breath and turned. She held out her cleaver, pointing it at Michael. She felt her legs shake as the rest of her body grew rigid. Michael blinked, orange dots flickering like candlelight.

"Chloe?"

The cleaver clattered to the ground. Chloe forced her legs still, lowering her arm. She pulled out a pen from the little cup on the counter, scribbling something down on the back of her dad's note. She slammed it down onto the stove, huffing.

She walked over to the door, bending down slightly to be at eye-level with Michael. She brought a hand up to the glass, spreading her fingers. Michael sniffled and uncurled his fist, mirroring Chloe's hand. They stared at each other for a long while, saying nothing.

The tears loosened and ran down Chloe's cheeks. Her hand slowly slid down to the door lock and she stared ahead. Stone cold. Michael's eyes seemed to glimmer as the lock slowly slid out of place.

"...Thank you, Michael." Chloe whispered.

The scream that ravaged the suburban home woke the neighbors, sounding more like a war cry than anything else. The last hurrah of Chloe Valentine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye bye, Chloe.
> 
>  
> 
> Bye, bye


	4. The Morning after til noon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one's really taking Michael's passing well.
> 
> Just wait until they find out what happened to Chloe.

Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He was out of tears, unable to sob any longer. He took long and calming breaths, feeling his nerves fry. He felt Jake move the blanket higher up on his shoulders, forcing his dad to stop rubbing his back for a few seconds.

"Take your time," The detective spoke quietly and softly. She didn't look too much like a cop. Short Shirley Temple blonde curls paired with fair skin and blue eyes. She looked soft, more fit to be a movie star or nurse at a child's hospital. Jeremy felt at ease with her appearance.

Jeremy coughed a bit and put his hands down, crossing his arms. He didn't look up, still scared. He could still feel Michael's weight in his arms. He was so warm when they tied him up.

"And we left," He mumbled, feeling his dad's hand move from rubbing his back to squeezing his shoulder.

Jake shifted and leaned into Jeremy's side, taking off his own blanket and wrapping it around Jeremy's shoulders. Mr. Heere made a face before he moved his arm to accommodate.

The detective nodded and gave Jeremy's calf a pat. She stood up and walked over to her partner, a taller man in a duster. They whispered to each other, not too secretive but not too open either. Mr. Heere turned to face Jeremy, trying his best to smile and act supportive.

"Do you need a break?"

Mr. Heere was still struggling to process it all. In the middle of the night, he was woken up by someone busting open the front door, hauling his distraught and hysteric son behind them. He was barely able to understand Jeremy as he screamed what happened, all his words mushing together and being swallowed by his desperate gasps for air. Everything was put into perspective as Jake grabbed Mr. Heere's wrist and told him, without a single tick in his voice, "Michael's dead."

"N-no, I...no, I don't need a break," Jeremy muttered, leaning back into Jake's chest.

Jake held Jeremy close, rubbing circles into his scalp. Mr. Heere tried his best not to make any negative movements or faces. He cleared his throat and nervously glanced up at the detectives, straining to hear what they were saying.

"Would you like some water? Something to eat? I can get you your favorite, Parmesan bread twists," He offered, already planning the exact route he'd take to the pizza place. Jake opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head a bit.

"Mr. Heere, sir, it's 3 in the morning," 

Mr. Heere deflated, refusing to let his smile slip away. He nodded and gave his legs a pat. He stood up and started walking in a circle, right at the edge of Jeremy's bed. There wasn't much room to pace. 

"Right, right." He rubbed his hands together. "Well, after everything we can go out. Do...something, clear our heads."

Jake looked up at Mr. Heere, smiling almost painfully. He held out a hand. Mr. Heere paused his movements, looking at the outstretched palm. He stayed still for a moment, slowly reaching out. He didn't understand what he was doing, and he wasn't sure if this is what his son's friend wanted. His doubts took a backseat as he felt Jake squeeze tight.

"What you need to do is calm down. All of us do."

Jake turned to look behind him, at Jeremy's headboard. Rich was passed out, snuggling with one of Jeremy's 10 pillows. It didn't have a pillow case on it. He snored for a few seconds every handful of minutes, lip twitching.

"I'll drive Rich home. What happened, we..." Jake trailed off, his calm facade shattering. His breath hitched and he started to shake. 

Jeremy perked up, looking up at his friend. Mr. Heere let go of Jake's hand, paternal instincts kicking in. He relaxed and acted as calm as he could, watching to see if he needed to intervene. Jeremy turned and wrapped his arms around Jake and lightly squeezed him.

Jake crushed Jeremy in a hug, hiding his face in Jeremy's neck. He started to cry, leg bouncing as his nervous energy became too much for him. Jeremy shushed Jake, it was his turn to comfort someone. 

The two held each other and rocked slightly, sniffling and staying silent. Neither needed to say anything. Both saw the same thing. They all lost the same person. No one was ever going to believe them.

Jeremy looked up as the detective walked back up to him, her lips turned in a soft and sympathetic frown. She didn't look like she had anything on her mind. A blank slate.

"Sweetie, are you sure it was the abandoned house? On Feir Street?"

Jeremy nodded. He felt his stomach twist as her expression changed. Like she'd seen this before. Like she was both worried and angry. Jeremy felt his stomach drop as she spoke.

"Honey, there's no body. No blood. No one died in that house."

\------------------------------

Brooke was the first to 'wake up'. She sat up in Jenna's large king sized bed, gently pushing Christine's leg off her chest. She felt a shiver crawl up her spine as the warmth from cuddling was lost. She looked down at her cuddle buddies, saddened. 

Jenna was fast asleep, softly making noise as she dreamed. A nightmare. Everyone was probably having nightmares. Brooke wasn't sure if staying awake with static brain was any better. Christine kept reaching out in her sleep, grabbing at the sheets Jenna stole. Her twisted face only emphasized her new dark blue under eyes. It almost looked like she got punched.

She was just grateful her parents let her stay at Jenna's house. Though, she could've done without the cops keeping them all awake for what felt like 12 hours.

Brooke managed to crawl out of Jenna and Christine's grasp, standing with a hunch. She hugged herself tight, jolting at the feel of her chest. She gently brought her hands up and squeezed. One of her bra cups was empty. 

"Great," She mumbled, looking around for her missing socks. She didn't see them, grumbling. She undid her bra and took it off, tossing it onto the floor. She still had a shoe on and her ribs ached. She needed a shower.

Unplugging her phone, Brooke sat down in the corner, pressing herself into the walls. She fought the urge to cry, cheeks still crusty with dried tears. She winced at the time, realizing how long she had been awake. 10 am. No wonder she felt so sick.

"Who else is awake?" She whispered, used to talking to herself.

She started sifting through her phone, checking her snapchats. She saw Michel's story, the pie chart surprisingly full. Brooke couldn't help but stare at it, reading his name over and over again. The thumbnail was so innocent. Jake, upside down, with a grey bar and tiny white text in the center. 

It felt like he was somehow still alive. Like last night wasn't real. With a shaking thumb, Brooke tapped on Michael's story, watching it for the first time.

The first snap was a picture of Jeremy. Plain, no text, nothing funny about it. Just Jeremy, sitting in a beanbag chair, smiling at the camera as he wrapped up his laptop in its charger.

The second snap was of the building, flash on. Brooke felt sick, tapping past it without reading what Michael wrote in the textbar.

The third and final snap started, Brooke's audio on full blast. She flinched, squeaking as Michael and Rich's laughter came through her speakers. She watched the video, trying not to shake as memories of the tower infected her mind. In the video, Jake was upside down on the pile of sleeping bags, rocking his head back and fourth. Jenna was sitting right next to him, snorting and giving his chest gentle pats. Michael could be heard, stifling his laughter.

"What'd you--Jake, _Jake_ , what'd you say?" He asked, the laughter only quieted, never stopping.

Jake didn't turn to the camera, smiling a bit wider. He nodded, biting his lip. There was a loud noise and Jake huffed out a mildly pained breath, giggling. Rich must've hit his stomach. The camera zoomed in a bit, blurring Jake's face.

"Jake, what'd you say?" Michael insisted.

Jake snorted and let his arms flop at the sides of his head, draping onto the floor. He looked at the camera, smirking.

"I'm an im-PASTA!" 

The room erupted into laughter, Michael's phone shaking as he laughed. The camera un-zoomed and shot up, as if Michael was falling back. There was a muffled thud and a shrill squeak from Jeremy as Michael's head likely made forceful contact with his ribs.

"Micha, ouc-"

The video cut off as it played again. Brooke didn't bother touching the screen again, watching the video over. She read the text along the grey bar. The last words Michael ever typed on snapchat. 

_I love these dorks. Full homo~_

The video played again and again, filling the room with laughter. Everything started off so well. Everyone was happy, having a good time. Preparing for a night of scary movies, snacks, and fun. How had it gone so wrong? She only noticed the tears as they dripped onto her phone, one drop messing with her screen and tapping Michael's story away.

Brooke whimpered, wiping her phone dry and opening Michael's story again. She sniffled and relaxed, hearing Michael's voice soothing her nerves. She ignored the sounds of sheets shuffling, not looking up as Christine whispered her name. After a few moments of being ignored, Christine laid back down and snuggled into Jenna's arms.

Brooke closed Michael's story eventually, not caring enough to check the time. She saw the group chat the all had made, only really used for memes. Texting always seemed better for actual conversations.

Brooke decided to take a picture, just of her feet. She quickly typed, sending the snap to the group chat. She prayed everyone would open it and see. Her stomach felt like it was filled with sewage as she realized Michael never would.

'WHo's up? Everyone ok?'

Brooke locked her phone and placed it face down beside her. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs tight. She wiped her cheeks off on them, slowly starting to rock. Her mind wandered around before shutting down, changing the channel to static. Here eyes dulled as she zoned out, muscles tense. Her body started forcing her to sleep, making her vision go dark.

Brooke shot up, snorting as she woke up. The back of her head slammed into the wall and she shoved her head into her knees, holding the back of her head and whining in pain. Christine made an upset noise and went back to gently rubbing Brooke's shoulders. 

"Sorry, are you okay? Do you need an ice pack?"

Brooke shook her head and sat up. A yawn clutched her, forcing her jaw open wide and her eyes closed. Christine sat down, getting off her knees. She picked up Brooke's discarded phone and handed it to her, unable to smile.

Brooke took the phone and unlocked it, frowning. She tapped around, avoiding all the notifications she could. She forced herself to open up snapchat, feeling Christine snuggle up to her. She didn't care how long she slept, wanting to shoot the sun for daring to rise. It didn't deserve to rise. Not without Michael being able to see it.

Brooke felt relieved at the groupchat's activity, opening up the snaps. She couldn't bring herself to make any faces, fake any emotion. She let herself be numb.

The first snap was Jenna's, of Brooke passed out in the corner. Horrible lighting.

The second one was Jake's, a black screen with text on it. "I am. Rich and Jeremy aren't".

Just as Brooke went to close the app, a snap from Chloe came in. She opened it, humming.

It was a picture of Chloe's desk, a bit messed up. A few papers here and there, a makeup palette or two open and off to the side. "Yeah"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas


	5. Drained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke's a bit drained from all that's happened.
> 
> She prays that's the only reason.

Brooke counted her steps as she walked, eyes glued to the pavement. She could smell the mist of dew as it evaporated in the morning haze. Suddenly, the wind blew, carrying the scent of rot. The same rot that clogged her nose not too long ago. The rot that tore through her innocence and let it bleed out. The rot of the vampire.

The feeling of frost, a cold fingernail, grazed down her spine. As if someone was preparing to dig in, touch the bone, flay open the flesh. She froze in fear, hearing the claw crinkle down her cardigan. She opened up her lungs and clenched her eyes shut. The bunnies and birds that came down to greet her were suddenly sent away as she screamed at the top pitch of her vocal chords.

Arms wrapped around her and she was unable to move. She kept screaming, hitting and clawing at whatever was holding her close. Her screams melted into sobs as she felt another set of claws run through her hair. She trembled like a puppy in a snowstorm, tensing up. She wasn't ready to die.

Two voices garbled and barked, hissing and crawling up her gut. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to run, pull away. She shook her head hard, crying softer and softer. Suddenly, the monstrous growls from hell melted away, a human voice taking its place.

"--Honey, shh, shh, It's okay, it's okay," Her dad shushed, voice quiet and soothing. It streamed out of his mouth like honey. He had gotten down onto his knees, shorter than Brooke. His face was wracked with worry, fear near blinding him. He held a leaf in front of him, never pulling his hand away from petting his daughter's hair.

"Honey bunny, I was just getting this off your back. I didn't mean to scare you," Brooke could see tears start to well up in his eyes. She felt horrible.

"I-I'm--I'm sorry, I-...I-I'm-"

Brooke felt her papa tighten his grip around her, shutting her up. She sniffled and looked up, finding it hard to see her papa's face behind his beard. She hated being eye-level with his untamed chin.

"Brooke, it's okay. I think going outside was a bad idea," He mumbled, obviously upset.

Brooke's dad stood up, fast enough to make his knees click. Brooke softly flinched, closing her eyes and relaxing into her papa. He started to rub her arm.

"Keon, she. She went through a traumatic experience. She needs things to be exactly the same, until she gets used to...it."

"No, she needs a nap and a glass of water. Maybe even some ice cream."

"What about therapy? You're going to send her to one of those now? Force some pills down her throat?"

"Francis, Brooke's right here."

"Keon-"

Brooke just listened at her parents fought. They were calm about it, her Papa more so than her dad. Both of them meant well, she knew they did. But the harder they tried to understand her, the more backwards their views seemed to become.

As her papa started bringing up politics, Brooke decided she had enough. She pulled away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Both her parents stopped, looking at their daughter in silence. Francis grit his teeth, feeling guilty.

"Dad? Papa? I think I just...wanna go to Chloe's."

Both her parents' shoulders relaxed, and her papa put his hand back on her shoulder. Her dad nodded and took his place behind Brooke, pushing his glasses up his freckled nose.

"Want some ice cream first?" Her papa asked, letting a soft smile graze his lips.

Brooke shook her head and started walking, leading her parents on. She felt sick. Too sick to even eat dinner. She'd slip half to her dog and say she was too tired to eat any more. She hoped her parents would just assume she ate at Chloe's. Because so far it seemed lunch wasn't going to happen.

Within an hour, Brooke was dropped off in front of Chloe's house. She knew she was home, they'd been texting for a good solid 15 minutes. Chloe didn't seem too snippy. A good sign. Or a bad one. Brooke couldn't quite decide yet.

The minivan slowly drove off, Brooke's parents watching her walk up onto the front porch and knock on the door. She took a step back and waited for Chloe to come, forcing a smile. Her cheeks ached.

Brooke rocked on her heels and started to scan the door, waiting. She clicked her tongue and pulled her phone out. She texted Chloe that she was here a few minutes ago. Confused, Brooke reached up and knocked again. After a few more minutes, Brooke grew nervous. She knocked again, harder than before.

"Chloe?" She called.

Brooke crinkled her nose and started texting Chloe again. The air started to feel colder. Thicker. She shivered and refused to turn around. Her body was screaming at her to run. There was something there, something was going to kill her. The wind blew again and she could feel her stomach crawling up her throat.

_'Chloe_

_Chloe, im here_

_CHloe_

_Chloe open the door_

_CHLOE'_

There was a whisp of a voice, and Brooke slowly turned her head. She started to tremble, leaning towards the door and beating her fist on it. In the corner of her vision she could see smog. A black nothingness. She nearly started to scream before the alley cat jumped into her vision.

Brooke let out a long breath, arms sliding down the door. She started to cough, having worried herself sick. She gagged and stood up straight, turning her back to Chloe's door. She focused on the cat, forcing the tension out of her shoulders. The cat bobbled and wobbled, mewling. He was fully grown, with a shiny coat. But he looked wrong. Overly sick.

Brooke calmed down as much as she deemed needed and turned to look at the door. Chloe still hadn't come. Brooke shook her head and walked off the porch. She made her way to the cat as he started to fall over. The cat's front legs gave out and he faceplanted into the grass. Brooke frowned and reached down to pet the cat, his pained and weak meowing hitting her chest with pity.

The cat seemed to like the attention, starting to purr. Brooke smiled and took note of the ginger fur. He looked as bright as fire. It seemed to fit him. She moved from petting the cat's head and ears to running her hand down his back.

Brooke froze when her hand felt wetness.

She looked down and pulled her hand away, expecting maggots and pus. Red laced her fingers, making her suck in a breath. She pulled the cat into her lap, searching his coat for a gash. Instead she found three very large rings of red. Brooke felt her heart pound in her ribcage. The rings were made up of dots. Divvets. Gouges. Sharp, hungry, strong teeth markings. She knew immediately what happened, wrapping her arms around the cat and standing up.

Brooke looked around, head whipping from side to side. No smog, no darkness. No red sweater. No vampire. She ducked low and ran to Chloe's side gate. She kicked the fence open and ran into Chloe's beautiful backyard, ignoring the flowers as she stomped through them. Bright lime green, pink and red carnations were crushed beneath her feet, smushed into the wood chips.

Brooke slammed her hand into the glass doors of the porch, looking inside. Chloe was laying on the counter, head on the stove. She had on a dark grey hoodie, much too big. She looked tiny, broken. A scared little bunny rabbit. Her hand grazed the knob to the burner she rested her cheek on, not bothering to look up at Brooke.

"Chloe! Chloe let me in!" Brooke cried, begging.

Chloe didn't even flinch, as if she didn't hear her best friend. She was too tired to even move her dulled eyes. Brooke became desperate, grabbing the handle and trying to rip the door open. It was unlocked.

With two big movements and a half second, the backdoor slid open and slammed shut. Brooke held the cat tight in her arms, forcing out a pained mewl from the kitten. Brooke normally would've apologized to the cat, maybe pet it to be soothing. Brooke just held the cat tighter and quickly locked the door. With her hand shaking, she slid the doorstop into the space between the siding door and the wall.

Brooke turned around and pressed her back into the glass door, panting. The cat in her arms wriggled and quietly yowled, stretching out and clawing at Brooke's face. A claw dug in and got caught, making Brooke squeak. A single bubble of blood began to bubble up and run down the cat's claw. Brooke took it's paw and pulled it off her face.

She sucked in an angry breath and looked up at Chloe, gritting her teeth. She was ready to yell at her apathetic best friend, she could've died, been attacked by Michael. Her mouth opened, nothing coming out.

Chloe was sitting up now, fingers pinching the knob to the stove. The flame was on, and thankfully Chloe's cheek was no longer against the burner. Her hair fell to her sides, the hood of her baggy dark grey sweater off and askew. Chloe's eyes were dull and mushroom colored, sending chills down Brooke's spine.

Chloe slid off the counter and slowly started towards her best friend. Her feet dragged, heels barely lifting off the tile. Brooke felt herself start to shake, shaking her head. Chloe's eyes. Her eyes.

Soon enough, Chloe was in front of Brooke. She looked down at the cat, humming. The cat looked up at her, starting to hiss. Chloe didn't have a reaction, lifting her hand and letting it drop onto the ginger's head. She circled her palm on top of the cat's skull, petting it in a way.

"You brought it back," She said, voice low and hard to hear.

"Brought...Chloe, what's wrong with you? Why didn't you answer the door, didn't you hear me? Didn't you see me? What's up with your eyes?"

Brooke blabbered on, Chloe never looking up. She scooped the cat out of Brooke's arms, watching as it slashed its claws across her chest and yank her sweater down. She continued to stay silent, walking to her bedroom. The cat yowled with more power now, hissing and trying its very hardest to escape.

Brooke pinched her lips together and watched Chloe leave the room. She stayed still for a few more moments, starting to bite her nails. The cat cried out, sounding like it got dropped. Brooke stiffened up and jogged towards Chloe's room.

"Don't ignore me! Chloe, are you sick? What's wrong?"

Brooke paused in front of Chloe's door, frowning. Why would she shut it? They agreed to hang out and nap. Why was Chloe being so...off?

"Chloe!"

Brooke opened the door, more annoyed than anything. Chloe was leaning against the closet door, head up, facing the ceiling. She looked upset, beyond upset. Brooke felt her annoyance melt into worry. She slowly shut the door, gentle.

"Chloe?"

She felt bad. It had to be the grief. Maybe she and the other girls were just taking Michael's situation really well. Or Chloe was taking it really bad. She looked so pale. So sick. Drained. Brooke walked up and took one of Chloe's hands in hers, holding it close. Brooke blinked at Chloe's cold skin. She felt like an ice pack.

"...I'm scared too," She whispered, looking at Chloe's chin. She wished the brunette would just look at her.

"...Michael being hurt like that, right in front of us...But you can't just keep me out. We all saw it. We all feel it."

Where did the fire in her best friend's eyes go?

Chloe kept breathing, hitting the closet door as the cat started to scratch at the door. Brooke jolted and looked at the closet, trailing her eyes down. She could see the cat's little paws at the bottom of the closet, scratching up the carpet as best it could.

"Chloe, why'd you put the cat in the closet? He's bleeding, we need to help him," Brooke said, soft and worried.

Chloe squeezed Brooke's hand and looked Brooke in the eyes. She was cold and unfeeling, just seeming tired. A kind of tired built up from years and years of stress. Not a way a teenage girl should look. Her voice was slow, sluggish, like she was trying to imitate slow motion speech.

"She stopped. Sleep with me."

Brooke flinched hard and backed up, not letting go of her best friend's hand. Her face flushed red and she couldn't find a spot to lock her eyes. She started to sputter.

"Wh-"

"We said we'd sleep. I'm tired. It's nap time."

Brooke gulped and tried to calm down. She was frazzled, she was fried. She couldn't bring herself to laugh it off like usual.

Chloe didn't wait for an answer, sluggishly walking into Brooke and slowly forcing her out of the way. She walked into the end of her bed and fell into it, face down. She started breathing slower right away, grabbing the pink comforter as she fell asleep.

Brooke stared at Chloe, sighing. She crossed her arms and looked at the closet. The cat stopped trying to get out, eerily silent. Brooke opened the door and left it ajar, moving to take her shoes off. She shuffled and pulled Chloe's spare blanket out from under the bed, taking some textbooks and makeup with it.

She shook the blanket off and put it over Chloe, smiling at the fuzzy faded frog pattern. It had been Chloe's favorite blanket since they were in middle school. The first gift Brooke ever gave a crush.

Brooke shook her head to clear it and crawled into bed next to Chloe. She shuffled under the sheets and curled up against Chloe. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, too lazy to get up and flick the light off. She was content with suffering with the light. She was tired enough to pass out on her own.

Brooke slowly opened her eyes as she heard the closet door creak open, wider, wider, wider. It hit the wall, the faint hint of rot wafting through the room, masked by a Bath and Bodyworks warehouse of Chloe's perfume.

Brooke stopped breathing, pulling out her phone as she got a Snapchat from Rich. She opened it with shaking hands, very slowly inching under the comforter.

The snap was Rich, laying down on his bed, frowning. His cheeks were shiny, from tears.

'Are you busy? Can I come over?'

Chloe began to snore as the clothes in the closet were moved out of the way, hangars squealing against their metal bar. Brooke started to feel lightheaded, not wanting to let the air in her lungs out.

A small flash of light.

'at Chloe's come over right now'

Brooke's vision became blurry as she felt something weakly tug at the blanket covering her. The tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She prayed it was the cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooke's got two dads and they love each other
> 
> Fite me


End file.
